Adventure's End
by Sheawyn
Summary: NWN2 Post-OC, Post-MotB: Knight Captain Marin A'Shaller travels back to Neverwinter to find out what happened to her companions and her love, and to pick up the pieces of her old life. My first attempt at posting some of my scribblings.
1. The Road to Neverwinter

**The Road to Neverwinter**

* * *

A warm fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a cosy glow around the room. The damage caused by the recent turmoil at the school had been repaired, leaving the room with a homely and lived-in feel. A map of the realms covered a large table, standing at the centre of the room. Marin A'Shaller stood to one side of it, her brow knitted as she measured off distances and made calculations.

The door opened and Safiya entered, followed closely by Kaji. The homunculus was chattering away as usual, but fell silent when the red wizard held up her hand, noting the pensive expression on Marin's face.

The tiefling looked up, forcing a smile for her friend. "Busy day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," replied Safiya. She crossed to the sideboard, taking out a crystal decanter and two wine goblets. "I have no idea how my mother ran the Academy and carried out her own research, _and _still sought an end to Akachi's Curse. Wine?"

Marin declined politely, one hand falling protectively to the growing swell of her belly. "Have you had any luck with finding out anything about what I asked?"

Safiya crossed to the fire before responding, sinking gratefully into one of the comfortable armchairs there and putting her feet up against the grating. She took a sip of wine before looking up to her friend, concern etched in her features as clearly as the mystical tattoo engraved on her forehead. "You won't be swayed from this path?"

Marin hitched her shoulders up and let them fall, dejected. "I want to go home. I need… I need to _know_…"

"You still believe he survived?"

"You ask me that after your lover was freed from a thousand-year-old curse?" Kaji leapt onto the armrest of Marin's chair, and she absently petted the homunculus. "Would that the gods grant me similar grace."

Safiya inclined her head, acknowledging the point. "I made some enquiries, and one has potential fruit to bear. I told you I suspected Red Wizards would not be welcome at Neverwinter's Academy, or at the Tower of Many-Starred Cloaks, and it appears I was correct. However, there have in the past been several alliances made with the Arcane Brotherhood in Luskan. It would be a simple matter to…"

Marin interrupted her, sitting up straight, her eyes wide. "Hang on, the Arcane Brotherhood? You want to send me to Luskan? Are you crazy?"

The intensity of Marin's reaction startled Safiya, but she raised a hand, placating. The tiefling was prone to more violent mood swings the further her pregnancy progressed. "I appreciate it's not Neverwinter, but it's only a matter of a hundred or so miles north versus several hundred leagues across the continent."

Marin got up, pacing before the fire. "I'm sorry, but you can't send me to Luskan. You just can't. They'd kill me on sight. _Especially _the Arcane Brotherhood."

"What exactly is the problem here?" asked Safiya, still surprised. "I can appreciate the Arcane Brotherhood is not well-liked in Neverwinter, but they are far better than the majority of Thayan Academies, as much as it pains me to say that."

"No, you don't understand…" Marin sighed, drawing her hand down wearily over her face. "I may not have mentioned it before, but the Arcane Brotherhood doesn't exactly number amongst my greatest fans. During the campaign against the King of Shadows I was fairly instrumental in foiling several of their plots to gain a foothold in the city. I've sent Luskan assassins to Kelemvor's arms on at least two occasions…"

"You make friends wherever you go, don't you?" replied Safiya dryly. "We could… No Kaji! Come here!"

Marin turned and saw the homunculus poised to pounce on her agitated tail, his eyes fixated on its jerky motions as it mirrored her mood. An insatiable rogue by nature, the homunculus just couldn't resist the tiefling's prehensile tail. A previous altercation between the two had cost him half his left wing. Although Safiya had re-crafted it with her magic he still flew with a slight cant. With the attention now on him, he flittered into the air, grumbling and muttering to himself.

"Kaji, go and tell the kitchens they can bring up our evening meal," instructed Safiya. He grumbled at her, but flew towards the door to carry out her request. Her familiar out of harm's way, Safiya returned to the matter at hand. "From the stories I've heard, I wouldn't trust any of the Arcane Brotherhood unless I'd transmuted them all into golems, but it's the best option we've got."

Marin threw herself down into the other armchair before the fire. "It doesn't really sound like much of an option to me."

"By conventional means, you're talking about close on three months overland travel, not to mention two sea crossings," said Safiya. Her gaze dropped to Marin's expanding waistline. "You can't undertake that journey alone… not now…"

"It's not something I'd welcome undertaking alone, but it may be the only option," replied Marin. "And I'm not postponing it. Arriving in Neverwinter with a baby in my arms and chartering an escort inland may be preferable to arriving in Luskan pregnant and meeting my end at the hands of the Brotherhood. I should be fine if I travel with caravans for the most part, particularly towards the end."

"You know Gann would travel with you, if you asked him to."

Marin shook her head once. "Don't go there, Safiya. It wouldn't be fair to him."

"He loves you."

"And I care for him, but not in the way that he wishes. I never will." Marin stared into the fire, playing with a bauble from the mantelpiece, absently tossing it into the air and catching it again. At last she turned, levelling the bauble at Safiya as if it were a sword. "I don't carry his child beneath my heart. You may have the Founder's memories of love, but you've never been in love yourself. Wait until then and we can speak again on this."

Safiya raised her hands in acquiescence, wisely choosing not to argue any further with the tiefling. "I still hold that establishing a portal to the Arcane Brotherhood in Luskan would be the fastest and safest way to get you to the Sword Coast. Master Djafi could enchant a rune for you, to bring you back here instantly should things go awry. Beyond that… using magic to conceal your appearance from the Arcane Brotherhood would be out of the question, but there are other methods by which we could do so."

A slow smile spread across Marin's face as she thought of something. Safiya raised an eyebrow, inviting her to explain the source of her mirth. Marin grinned, unable to repress herself at the thought. "They certainly wouldn't be expecting me to be with child."


	2. The Arcane Brotherhood

**The Arcane Brotherhood**

* * *

"You have the rune?" asked Safiya.

"Yes," replied Marin, for what felt like the hundredth time. The rune of recall lay within easy reach in her pocket. "And I have the scroll that will anchor a stable portal, once I've determined where home is."

Safiya seemed reluctant to let her go. "Then I suppose… then I suppose there is not much more left to be said."

"The Founder brought me here to release the suffering of your love; now I go to find mine." Marin shouldered her travel pack, reassured by the familiar weight of it and the equipment therein. She grinned at the red wizard. "Don't worry, we'll speak again."

Khaman, the red wizard apprentice chosen to escort her, stepped forward. "My lady, we are ready to proceed."

Marin hesitated, clasping Safiya in one last embrace, then turned and plunged through the rainbow hues of the portal.

* * *

"My lady, sir," said the Hosttower apprentice, bowing to them. He kept his face averted, having been instructed in no uncertain terms not to in any way impede the passage of the Hosttower guests. "Fast horses await in the stables. I will take you…"

"In a moment, apprentice." A Hosttower mage stepped from the shadows, clad in black. He regarded Marin with undisguised greed. "It is not often we receive guests from Thay; you must excuse my curiosity. To what purpose is your visit, if not to visit one of the Hosttower?"

"Our purpose is not be questioned, _sir_," replied the red wizard apprentice harshly.

"Easy, Khaman," said Marin, spreading her hands slowly before the wizard's scrutiny. The movement caused her cloak to fall apart, revealing her swollen belly. "Our Hosttower counterpart is merely enquiring as to our passage here."

"It's not so much your passage that interests me as it is the magicks that you carry," replied the Hosttower mage. "There seems to be…"

"Might I remind you the terms of the agreement?" demanded Khaman, bulling his way to the fore. "You may want to check with your superiors before you do anything rash. Your Brotherhood has already received its payment for this transaction; in return you owe us safe passage for one of our matrons, away from the prying eyes of her Thayan enemies as she reaches her term."

The Hosttower mage's eyes remained fixed on Marin. "Still, there is something…"

Marin reached up, rubbing the back of her neck as she tried to ease the tension in the room. Her weight shifted imperceptibly as she gauged the distance between herself and the mage. Unsuspecting, she could have him down in one strike. The fingers of her right hand touched the hilt of the Sword of Gith, hidden in its enchanted scabbard down the length of her back.

"I must offer my apologies," said the Hosttower mage, bowing before them. "I really had no place to interfere. Please… do proceed." Khaman scowled at the cowering mage, who scurried aside and let them pass. The air about him flickered as he teleported from sight.

"That was too easy," muttered Marin, edgy. After facing down Sydney Natale she wouldn't have thought any of the Hosttower mages could be so easily intimidated.

Khaman was unperturbed, instead cuffing the apprentice cowering before him. "Take us to your stables."

* * *

Marin glanced around uneasily. Led through the Hosttower complex by the cowering apprentice, they had been unchallenged since the altercation with the mage in the portal room. Despite that, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched; an almost palpable weight of oppression pressing down on the back of her neck. It grew with every step she took as they drew nearer to the stables.

Khaman looked across at her, noticing her ill-ease. "Almost there, my lady."

"I wouldn't count on a smooth ride out of here," was her reply.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth when her skin crawled with disjunction in the arcane flows of magic. The apprentice led them round the last corner to the stables, where they found the mage from the portal room waiting, flanked by several others. After one frightened look at his superiors the apprentice flickered and vanished from sight.

Regardless, Khaman stood his ground. "You seek to interfere? Face the wrath of the Red Wizards!"

"Stand down, you fool!" said Marin urgently. Facing such odds, the young mage would get himself and her incinerated before he managed to throw his first spell. At the order of the lead Hosttower mage, she placed her hands flat-palmed behind her head. Her right hand slid surreptitiously lower, closer to the hidden hilt.

"There is something about you, Matron, which leads us to believe that you may possess magical artefacts of interest to the Arcane Brotherhood."

Marin held her poise. "I am sure there are many artefacts of interest to the Arcane Brotherhood, which are currently held by other powers. Register your interest with my apprentice and I'm sure we can see what can be done to satisfy your curiosity, at a later time."

"Consider our interest noted, Matron, and let us see what it is that you carry now."

Marin stiffened as a familiar voice intruded on the confrontation. "Come now, mi'lords, there is no need for unpleasantness here."

Torio Claven entered the chamber, flanked by a hulking bodyguard and Hosttower arch-mage. Several others followed behind. "Be assured that this is a matter of the highest diplomatic importance to Luskan. I will take it from here."

"Lady Claven…"

"I assure you; your diligence is noted and appreciated, most esteemed of the Hosttower." Torio paused, looking each mage in the face, fully conscious of the effect her commanding presence had. "But it won't be necessary or appreciated here. Leave us, now."

One by one, the Hosttower mages vanished from sight, cowed by the scarcely veiled threats in the diplomat's words. Torio drew a wand from her sleeve, casting one of its charges to ensure no hidden mages remained. Satisfied, she turned to Marin. "We should move, and move quickly."

The tiefling hesitated, her fingers still resting on the hilt of the Sword of Gith. Torio turned on her at once, her voice a hiss ragged with tension. "Draw that weapon here and you will be beyond my power to shield you. Your friends have done well to hide its presence, but nothing will avail you should the Hosttower become aware of what you carry, and who you truly are."

"Why? Why are you helping me?"

Torio smiled. "Remember what your paladin friend said…"

Marin stiffened, her voice catching in her throat as she automatically corrected her. "His name's Casavir."

"Then remember what Casavir said." Torio smiled, looking back at her. "_Now that she no longer goes in fear for her life, she may aspire to better things_."

Marin stared at her, astounded. "You heard that?"

"You were standing outside my quarters… It took a while, but you could say it had a lasting impression." Torio signalled to her men and they closed ranks about Marin, shielding her from any further scrutiny. "That's all I'll say for now."

* * *

"Brego will see you through most dangers the road can throw at you, although I know you can handle yourself well enough," said Torio, holding the horse's bridle.

Marin secured her travel pack to the saddle before hauling herself up with the assistance of the mounting block. "You'll see that Khaman makes it back safely through the portal to Thay? Left to himself, he might just pick a fight along the way that'll start a new war."

"Changing the plan already?" Torio smirked, looking up at the tiefling. "Your red wizard ally will be most displeased."

Marin returned Torio's gaze with a level look, and the Luskan woman shrugged. "Leave it to me, then." Seeing her charge settled in the saddle, Torio led the horse out of the stables and into the road. She handed up a furled scroll, the red wax sealing it stamped with a signet unreadable in the darkness. "The gate guards will let you pass with this. You're on your own once you are beyond the walls of Luskan. Good luck."

Marin tucked the scroll inside her tunic. She could feel the horse was anxious to be moving but she reined in, looking down at the erstwhile Luskan ambassador to Neverwinter, who had once sought her blood. "Torio… thanks."

The woman smiled again; an expression Marin was unaccustomed to seeing on her face. "I hope you find what you are looking for, Knight-Captain. May the gods watch over you."


	3. Returning to the Mere

**Returning to the Mere **

* * *

The rider reined in, slowing to a walk as the road narrowed to a dirt track. Five days of hard travel had taken her deep into Neverwinter territory, to the outskirts of the Mere, yet her mount was showing no signs of tiring. Torio Claven had seen to it that she had a good stead beneath her for this journey.

The undergrowth rustled in the gentle whisper of a breeze, orange reeds shimmering amongst a sea of green. Marin paused at that, taking a deep breath and pushing back the hood of her cloak. Around her, the Mere was alive and vibrant. Butterflies danced between late-summer blooms, and birds sang in the trees above. Her sharp tiefling ears even caught the elusive sounds of a pair of beavers, splashing playfully in a hidden stream bubbling not far from the road.

She took another deep breath, revelling in the familiar peat-scent of the bogs, in the singing of the crickets, in the absence of the oppressive heaviness that had masked shadow's presence. The Mere was a place where druids no longer tended, true, but neither one where shadow held its sway. Mother Nature had returned.

Marin was unaware how long she paused there, until her reverie was broken by Brego. The horse snorted impatiently, eager to continue. Pulling up her hood, she obliged by setting her heels to his side. They would reach the inn by nightfall.

* * *

Later that evening found Marin approaching the door of the Weeping Willow Inn with mixed feelings. She'd turned into the inn's yard feeling some trepidation, half-expecting to find Khelgar facing off against some ruffians intent on something more violent than the 'friendly' bar-room brawl proposed by the dwarf. Instead she'd been met by a stable-boy who'd courteously held Brego's head as she'd dismounted.

The inn was much as she remembered it, though with more patrons now that the environs were considered safer. Not yet ready to make her return known, she ordered a meal and sat at the end of the bar, her hood pulled low over her face, giving herself over to her own thoughts.

It had been at the table in the corner where she'd first sat with Khelgar, drinking one tankard to his every two, when he'd regaled her with the reasoning behind why he believed becoming a monk was his destiny. They'd been interrupted soon after by a raiding party of duergar and bladelings but the dwarf's presence in that brief respite had been special to her. She had arrived at the inn still reeling from the aftermath of Amie's death, exiled from her home in the wake of the githyanki attack with no more than a few cryptic instructions from her father as her guide. Even more, a part of her almost buried beneath the exhaustion had worried about the outside world's reaction to a tiefling.

Marin smiled to herself at that; perhaps fighting back-to-back with Khelgar against the brawlers had had something to do with his positive first impression of her, but the dwarf had accepted her immediately. Right from the start he'd trusted her implicitly, absolutely, even when the course of action she'd chosen wasn't his preferred path. But despite his view of her, it had still taken the dwarf many months to own the same trust to Neeshka. In the end, though, he had been the most outspoken when Neeshka had been taken by the King of Shadows.

"Can I get you anything else, miss?" asked the innkeeper, wiping the bar before putting a plate of steaming stew down before her.

"Just a glass of water, and a room for the night, please."

The innkeeper returned with the water, setting it down next to her plate. "Forgive me for asking, but I don't think I've seen you around here before." He glanced at her belly, her condition obvious. "What would be your business out here, alone? There's nothing much further along on the road but the ruins of West Harbour."

"I'm actually from West Harbour. I haven't been back there for a while, not since…"

"Since before the war, I'd imagine," finished the innkeeper. He nodded in understanding, regarding her with new-found respect. "I hear the survivors are rebuilding the place, despite others thinking it's time to bow out and let the swamps retake it. I'll give you this; you Harbourmen are a tough folk."

Marin nodded, managing a weak smile. The Harbourmen's renowned resilience and toughness hadn't saved the village in the end. Memories of the fallen still haunted her dreams. "I've been out of the area for a while. What can you tell me about the war?"

"You're probably better off getting the story in Neverwinter than from me." The innkeeper rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about it. "It's difficult to say exactly when the whole thing started, really, but for the 'Willow it would have to be this one night when I had a madcap dwarf drinking up all my ale." He broke off, chuckling at the memory as he pointed out the table where she had sat with Khelgar. "Him and a little slip of a tiefling girl came in and sat right over there, and started making heavy inroads into my ale."

"A tiefling?" said Marin, interrupting him. She was glad her hood was still pulled up, hiding her horns, and that her tail was tucked safely out of sight. Clearly the innkeeper didn't recognise her. "You actually saw a tiefling?"

"Oh, yes I did, miss. I wasn't too sure about the whole thing, I can tell you, but I wasn't about to complain when the inn was attacked by demon creatures and the little tiefling girl stood up to face them on her own! She and the dwarf fought off the attackers single-handed. Must have killed over fifty of them before the attack ended, and not a single patron's life was lost! They left the inn not long after, and I heard later that the new Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep was none other than that little tiefling lass from West Harbour."

He shook his head, as if he still scarcely believed it. "I'd never have believed it if you'd told me a year ago that a tiefling would become the noble defender of Neverwinter – sacrificing all for the rest of us – but from that night on that little lass was a hero in my eyes. She didn't even ask for a reward, for defending the inn; just asked me to put some travel rations together, and then disappeared into the night with that dwarf."

Marin couldn't help but feel some amusement at that; if Khelgar had been there the innkeeper would be on the ground missing a few teeth for having referred to 'that dwarf' next to the 'heroic little tiefling lass'. "So what happened next?"

"Dark days is what happened after that," replied the innkeeper, shaking his head. "Things went from bad to worse. The patrols from Fort Locke had stopped, and patronage of the inn stopped not long after; with all the lizardling attacks and rumours of the walking dead, no one was willing to travel the Mere. After that night with the tiefling lass and the dwarf, only one other soul was hardy enough to brave the road from West Harbour. A brawny youth, though he looked as though he had something on his mind." The innkeeper paused, regarding her. "He was a bit older than you, perhaps; someone you may have known?"

Marin nodded, knowing exactly who he was talking about it. "Sounds like one of the Starling boys."

The innkeeper beamed. "Starling! That was it; he was on his way to Crossroad Keep, to sign up with the greycloaks there in the Knight-Captain's army. Heard he made lieutenant after the war. Poor lad, not two days after he left the last patrol from Fort Locke came through, grim-faced. They'd found the entire village in ruins, the only survivors a couple of people from the outlying farms." He paused compassionately, "You still had family there?"

"No family, but friends," replied Marin. Caught unguarded, she felt tears burning her eyes. In the rush to find the final ritual statue they hadn't had time to tend to the fallen. She didn't even know where Amie had been buried, after the first attack. She brushed away the gathering moisture with the back of her hand, trying to shrug it off. "Please, do continue."

"The patrol advised us to leave. We knew things had been getting worse in the Mere but after what they told us… we gathered up what we could and left with them, taking only what we could carry." The innkeeper looked about, taking in the heavy oaken timbers of the roof, the whitewashed walls and the bustling patrons. "Honestly, I never expected to see the 'Willow standing again, but she weathered the war alright. I guess you Harbourmen aren't the only ones stubborn enough not to give in."

Marin nodded, "Seeing as how you came back after the war."

"Aye, though for a while I didn't think I'd live through to see it again. We went with the patrol to Fort Locke but it was swarmed under with hordes of undead." The innkeeper tapped himself a mug of ale, clearly haunted by the memory. "Chauntea be my witness but never in my life had I seen such a horrific sight, not before that night nor since."

Marin said nothing, waiting as the innkeeper took a long drink before continuing. "The patrol leader split his men and charged half of them with carrying the word of Fort Locke's fall. Sent them on with us to Highcliffe. With the rest he… bless his bravery, but I never could fathom why he didn't just head on to Highcliffe with us. Might've still been alive today." He paused, raising his mug in memory. "May his soul rest in peace, old Sergeant Blaine. If not for his actions, we wouldn't have gotten very far."

Marin dipped her head in respect, recognising the name. One of Commander Tann's wounded soldiers she'd rescued from the crypts with Khelgar and Neeshka. The war against the King of Shadows had reaped many lives for Kelemvor's realm.

"With the help of the remaining soldiers we won through to Highcliffe. We thought we were safe there; the wife and I had even set up a makeshift inn to cater for the influx of refugees from the surrounding areas. But then one night the lizardlings came. They surrounded the town, wouldn't let anyone in or out, and mercilessly hunted down anyone trying to escape. Terrible times, I tell you. But a messenger must've finally gotten through to Crossroad Keep, because when help came it was none other than the Knight Captain herself! She rode through the town with her troops, personally battled the shaman leading the lizardlings, freed the town, and even convinced the remaining lizardlings to ally to Neverwinter's cause…"

The innkeeper broke off, scratching his head quizzically. "I'll admit, never did quite catch how she managed to do that. Wouldn't have thought you'd be able to do anything with lizardlings but kill them, but there you have it."

"Were you in Highcliffe when it fell to the King of Shadows?" asked Marin. If not for the lizardlings' aid, the west wall would've fallen during Black Garius' assault of the keep.

"Luckily not." The innkeeper took another drink of his ale. "A few weeks after the lizardling threat had been dealt with the scouts started returning with troubling reports of undead movements. A dwarven knight of the 'Nine had arrived by then to command the greycloaks. He ordered the civilians to evacuate, to head for Neverwinter. I heard later he was killed, carrying news of Highcliffe's fall to Crossroad Keep."

A patron called for attention, and the innkeeper left to respond. Marin sat quietly, her mood turning sombre. Callum's death had been hard for them all; but especially for Casavir, fighting desperately through the blade golems but unable to reach his friend in time before the shadow reaver struck him down. And in the aftermath having no time for grieving, what with Black Garius' forces poised to fall on the keep itself. Ending the undeath of Black Garius was only small recompense for the death and destruction their enemy had sown in the name of ambition and the King of Shadows.

The innkeeper returned then, tossing the rag over his shoulder and picking up his mug of ale. "Where was I?"

"The fall of Highcliffe, what happened after that," supplied Marin.

"Ah, right. After they swept through Highcliffe, the army of the King of Shadows headed for Crossroad Keep. Some say he recognised the Knight Captain as his only true threat; others say his lieutenant wanted to reclaim artefacts of power hidden within the keep. Whatever the reason, within a day of Highcliffe's fall, his army of undead was circling around the Knight Captain's keep."

"Were you there, at Crossroad Keep?" asked Marin, curious. Had he been amongst the refugees who'd streamed in from the outlying areas around the keep?

"Thank the gods but no, lass. I was in Neverwinter by then. But Crossroad Keep was the last line of defence standing between the King of Shadows and the rest of us. It was a nervous time, I can tell you that. We heard tell that the Keep stood besieged by creatures of nightmare, beasts of myth and legend, in a massive battle. And despite rumours of betrayal within the keep, the Knight Captain still prevailed, besting the King of Shadows' lieutenant and sending him to the abyss. The undead army fell apart with his demise. But then we heard that the Knight Captain left Crossroad Keep behind, travelling into the Vale of Merdelain with her closest companions, taking the final battle to the King of Shadows himself. We waited with bated breath for days, until the word came."

The innkeeper shook his head, still amazed by it all. "The Knight Captain had achieved the impossible; destroying the King of Shadows, returning hope to Neverwinter. They say the ground shuddered for miles around – even the troops at Crossroad Keep felt the upheaval. Not long after that a dimness they hadn't even realised had been there lifted like a veil from the sky, vanishing as the sun's rays strengthened. Nobody knows how she did it, but the Knight Captain saved us all."

"That's quite a tale."

The innkeeper drained the last of his ale, sighing. "Which brings us to the crowning tragedy of all. The ground shuddering – they say that was caused by the King of Shadows' keep collapsing in on itself. The Knight Captain and her party didn't have time to escape. I heard tell some were dug out, but not many still living. Of the Knight Captain, no trace was found."

Marin willed her voice to remain level, gripping the edge of the bar until her knuckles were white. "You don't know for certain who survived?"

The innkeeper laughed good-naturedly. "Lass, I'm just the keeper of an inn bordering on the Mere; I've told you all I know of the last days of the war, which is mostly based on hearsay. But I've also heard tell of a memorial marker, raised to honour the fallen, in the Vale of Merdelain. You'll find your answers there, as surely as you'd find them within the halls of Crossroad Keep itself."

Marin didn't respond, instead just nodding in acknowledgement to the innkeeper as she raised her glass to her lips. West Harbour would have to wait; on the morrow, she would be heading for the Vale instead.


	4. The Vale of Merdelain

**The Vale of Merdelain**

* * *

Brego snorted, his hooves clopping up clots of mud from the overgrown path. Marin patted his neck reassuringly but the horse tossed his head, dancing to the side as a rabbit shot across the path. Marin told herself the horse was just skittish with the early morning mists swirling around them, but in truth she knew the source of his ill-ease. They were drawing close to the site of the cataclysmic battle against the King of Shadows, and even the horse could sense it.

She would've sensed it too, even if she hadn't known where she was going. There were animals and wildlife here, true, but they were subdued. Not lethargic and oppressed, as they had been when shadow had grown long, just… subdued. The magnitude of what had happened here had left its mark on the land.

The wind shifted as they crested a rise, the morning mists lifting as the sun's rays burned them away. Marin reined in, a lump catching at the back of her throat. Laid out before her, resting in a sunken crater, was the Vale of Merdelain. The final resting place of the King of Shadows… and how many of her friends?

Brego snorted restlessly but Marin could not bring herself to move on directly. They had gone through so much to reach that point, to uncover the true enemy threatening the lands, to face the King of Shadows in his own fortress. And they had done it, vanquished evil, become saviours of the land, but the cost had been high. Many greycloaks had fallen in defence of Crossroad Keep, hundreds more in the failed attempt to retake Highcliffe. Before that, Commander Tann and the defenders of Fort Locke, Shandra's sacrifice in the Haven, the villagers of West Harbour, and Amie.

She gazed down into the peaceful Vale. Here the last that she knew of had fallen; Qara to shadow, Bishop to his own emotions. Marin's heart gave a twist at the thought of the troubled ranger; as tormented as he had been in life he'd found the oblivion he'd craved in death.

Brego tossed his head impatiently, pawing at the ground. Towards the far end of the crater were tumbledown ruins; the entrance to the underground keep. They'd never seen the entrance from the surface, but she knew it was there. Responding to her guiding hand, Brego picked out a safe passage down into the basin of the crater.

Nearing the ruins and the looming memorial marker Marin found herself slowing Brego, a feeling akin to dread crawling over her. She knew what she would find there, inscribed in stone the fates of her companions. Ammon Jerro had already told her what he knew, but she couldn't believe him, not until she had some form of confirmation. Daeghun's voice echoed in her mind, chastising her for steadfastly refusing to believe Amie's familiar had been mauled by one of Bevil's dogs until he had eventually shown her the savaged corpse. Was she being naive again, refusing to believe what Ammon had told her? The stakes were much higher here.

Had Ammon been right? Khelgar survived the rock-fall, but had he escaped the living tomb? Had Neeshka survived, on the other side of the rock-fall? Had Grobnar really been killed stupidly trying to protect the Construct from falling debris? Had Sand completed his spell in time, his iron golem form saving him? Had nature's touch allowed Elanee to survive? Had... had Casavir been crushed beneath a doorway he'd held intact for others to pass through?

Marin recoiled from the thought, and she pushed it away. He had to have survived, there was no other option. She hadn't gone to the City of the Dead and back for nothing. She was going to read the inscription on the memorial marker and learn he was still alive. It was as simple as that.

The memorial marker was partially overgrown, with only the first few lines of text still visible: _"1374 DR. This memorial marks the location of the final battle in the Shadow War, where Knight Captain Marin A'Shaller and diverse companions of Crossroad Keep defeated the King of Shadows and restored peace to the land."_

She dismounted gingerly, shivering as a sense of foreboding passed over her. Caution followed swiftly as her sharp ears picked up something moving stealthily in the undergrowth, slowly, steadily towards her. She quietly dropped into a defensive posture, holding her hand before her in a warding position. The undergrowth rustled again – whatever was there was _big_ – when the bushes exploded outwards and a grey blur bounded joyfully towards her.

"Fedain!" exclaimed Marin, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms about the wolf's neck in delight. He barked excitedly before lathering her face with enthusiastic licks, his busy tail sweeping back and forth as he danced about her, almost out of his skin to be reunited with her again.

All she had to do was clear away some of the brush, and she would know... With Fedain returned to her side, as he had been since her tenth birthday, how could things not go her way? Pausing to give the wolf a final hug, Marin took a deep breath and pulled away the obscuring brush to read the remainder of the inscription, her heart pounding painfully in her throat.

Ammon Jerro's observations in the fleeting seconds before he had chased after her kidnappers had been accurate; Khelgar, Neeshka and Sand had survived, the others... not.

Marin came to herself slumped to the ground, her arms wrapped about Fedain's neck, the wolf nuzzling her in concern. She clung to him, her face buried in his ruff as the aching anguish of lost hopes and dreams found voice. A stream of memories assaulted her: his earnest blue eyes, entreating her to allow him to champion her in the duel against Lorne; that curious half-smile, with which he'd calmly watch the latest squabble between Neeshka and Khelgar; his quiet courage, brimming with the resolute belief in what was right, in _her_; the softness of his lips against hers, that last night...

How long it was before she finally sat back, she didn't know. Fedain leaned against her, his long tongue licking at the salty tears marking her cheeks. She should've known... Ammon had been telling the truth; he had had no reason to lie. She should've known... Neeshka had always said tieflings didn't find lasting happiness, no matter how good they tried to be. She should've known... a painful jab to her ribs broke her morbid thoughts and brought her back to the present. She smiled despite herself, placing her hands on her belly, feeling her baby squirming in response to her tumultuous emotions. She should've known she risked falling into the dark despair that had taken Daeghun after the death of his wife, fixated on the past while missing out on what was happening in the present.

"I won't do that to you," she said to her unborn child, speaking aloud to commit to her words. "From now on you will be my life. I'll keep my memories of your father alive so that you might know what a great man he was, not so that I lose myself in bitterness and lose you."

She rose, drying her eyes and taking a deep breath. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to keep her promise, but she suddenly knew that she could do it. Feeling buoyed by an unusual sense of peace, she looked about for Brego. It was time to move on.

Satisfied she wasn't about to collapse again, Fedain leaned against her for a moment then scampered off to the edge of the clearing. He sniffed at something hidden in the undergrowth not far from the memorial marker, barked once, then started scrabbling at the dirt. Curious, Marin walked over and carefully knelt down beside him, clearing away some of the brush to find a small stone cairn built of white stones.

A bunch of fresh flowers rested at the cairn's base.

Marin reached out in wonder, touching the dew-kissed petals. Sweet galenas… Hope bloomed in her heart, elation surging through her. Sweet galenas; the same blooms he had given her as they had walked the fields together after the siege.

"Sweet mother of all that's..." began Marin, but the words faltered as icy bitterness swept her soul. Sweet galenas; the same blossom Daeghun was fond of. That he'd laid on the white stone cairn marking his wife's grave each year, on the anniversary of her death. Tears welled in Marin's eyes as she struggled to her feet, stumbling away blindly, crushing desolation returned.


	5. New Beginnings

**New Beginnings**

* * *

"There are riders coming! Men, with weapons!"

One of the village children burst into the tent, followed by two breathless others. The eldest panted out the story, "We were playing out by the ruins of the old Farlong place when we saw them! They're on big horses with armour, and they've got big swords. They're riding straight here!"

A nervous ripple swept through the communal tent where the survivors came together at night for the sharing of food and mutual protection while they were rebuilding the houses of the old West Harbour. Mothers pulled their children close, while fathers reached for their wood axes. More than a few looked to Marin; in the months since they'd accepted her into their midst with no questions, they'd increasingly looked to her for guidance.

Marin pushed herself to her feet, putting her hands to the small of her back and taking a moment to catch her breath. As ungainly as she was, with her magic she was probably the villagers' best line of defence if the riders were raiders. "Lynton and Griffiths, come with me. The rest of you stay here, but be on your guard. Maybe it's nothing."

Outside rain was falling, a fine sheet of droplets blending with the dying light and receding into the growing haze of dusk. Marin stepped carefully across the slippery ground, calling to mind a protective spell, almost stumbling as Fedain materialised from the murky twilight and pressed into her legs in greeting. The wolf's tail was wagging, his tongue lolling out as he fell in step at her side. A good sign, thought Marin. If the riders were hostile, the wolf would be lurking in the shadows waiting for the most opportune time to strike.

A unit of cavalry appeared out of the growing darkness on the far side of the river, riding in two disciplined columns, their weapons sheathed. Her spirits soared as her sharp eye picked out familiar crests on the fluttering banners; the ferocious stylised eye of the Neverwinter Nine, and the twin swords of Crossroad Keep. The men riding beneath the banners wore silver-grey tabards, adorned with three white stars. Greycloaks.

The riders reined in their mud-splattered mounts and turned aside, revealing their leader. He pushed the hood of his sodden cloak back, revealing finely chiselled features infused with a noble bearing. For long moments he said nothing, just sat there staring at her as if he could scarcely believe his eyes. Then he dismounted and walked towards her, stopping a few feet away to bow courteously. "Lady Marin, nothing gives me greater pleasure than to see you alive and well again."

Marin inclined her head in return, then started laughing, unable to help herself. Confronted by someone believed long-dead, standing in the middle of the swamps, soaked to the skin and covered in muck, the knight's manners were still impeccable. She smiled, one hand resting on her swollen belly. "I would curtsey, Sir Nevalle, but I might just over-balance if I do."

Seeing the riders were friendly, one of the villagers came forward, carrying a torch. The flickering light fell on Marin and Nevalle's eyes widened momentarily when he saw her condition. He was quick to recover, however, offering her his arm to support her across the uneven ground, "And many congratulations, if I may?"

She smiled wistfully, inclining her head as she accepted his arm. "Thank you, Sir Nevalle."

A commotion came from the back of the column, followed by a strident voice. "Where is she? Where in the flamin' hells is she?" Khelgar stormed to the fore, his dwarven brogue so thick with emotion it was barely understandable, "By the gods, lassie, if ya ever go off like that again an' give us such a scare, I'll... I'll..."

Marin knelt, throwing her arms about the dwarf and hugging him fiercely. "I see you've still got that ruddy mutt following you around," growled Khelgar, scrubbing at his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hide his emotions. Fedain growled back in return, his tongue lolling out in a wide grin and his tail still wagging at the sight of the dwarf.

* * *

"Kana's kept the 'Keep in good nick," Khelgar was saying. "Trade's flowing through just as you hoped, a thriving farming community's grown up in the outlying areas, and your soldiers are keeping the peace. Hell, you've gotta ride three days in any direction to have even a slim chance of finding a decent fight."

"Glad to hear it," said Marin.

"And your boy Bevil really came through; Nevalle promoted him to lieutenant after the war. He's Kana's right hand now, although if you listen to Neeshka she swears they're even more than that." Khelgar helped himself to another flagon of ale, thinking of what other news he had to share. "Oh, and your father's based out of the 'Keep now too, although we've hardly seen him for more than three days these past three seasons. He's been travelling the lands, searching for you. Kana sent out scouts with word of your return so hopefully he'll be back by the time we get there."

Marin toyed with the glass before her; he was dancing around the one question she had to know the answer to but hadn't wanted to ask. "Khelgar, I need to know what happened. I remember the chamber shuddering, and rocks beginning to fall... We were running for the exit, but then it all goes black, and the next thing I remember is waking up in Okku's barrow in Rashemen."

Khelgar went very still. "You said Ammon told you."

"He told me you survived, and that Neeshka and Sand may have, while the others… he said that… Khelgar, I need to know what happened. Why can't I remember?"

The dwarf sighed heavily, setting down his ale and wiping away the foam caught on his beard. "You wouldn't remember. You were knocked out cold by falling debris, so we carried you. We'd almost made it to that chamber with the shadow portals when the place really started tearing itself apart. Casavir went ahead to an archway that was crumbling, to hold it up. If he hadn't, we'd all have died there."

Khelgar reached over, resting his calloused hand on Marin's. "The archway collapsed on him. There wasn't anything we could've done."

Marin shook her head, refusing to believe him. "Did you see his body?"

"Marin… it was total chaos after that. The whole place was coming down, I couldn't see anyone else. Then those shadow creatures appeared and grabbed you."

"Did you see his body?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"Lass… nobody saw his body. When the portal closed behind your kidnappers, I went back to see if…" He broke off, shaking his head. "There was just too much rubble and debris. It took more than a week for Nevalle's team to dig us out. They stopped after they reached us; the mages sensed no life force beyond the rock fall, and it was just too unstable to continue."

Marin looked away, biting her lip as she wrestled with her emotions. It was one thing to decide she'd leave the past in the past for the sake of her child, but it seemed doing so was another matter altogether. At length, she looked back at Khelgar, whisking away tears with the back of her hand. "We'll need to go back… stabilise the rock fall somehow… get him out. It was his wish to be buried in the Temple of Seasons."

Khelgar awkwardly patted her hand, not knowing what else to do. Marin rose to her feet, unsteady. "I need to… I think I need some air…" Before she'd taken a step she gasped, hunching over in pain, the colour draining from her face.

Khelgar swore as he leapt to his feet, throwing a sturdy arm about her waist and steadying her. "The baby's coming. Someone fetch the doctor!"


	6. The Knight Captain's Return

**The Knight Captain's Return**

* * *

"Everybody loves you, you know that?"

Marisca yawned sleepily, and Marin rested her cheek on the top of her baby's head, gently rocking her to and fro. "Even Khelgar smiles at you, when he thinks no one is looking."

She glanced down when there was no response. Marisca was sleeping soundly, one thumb jammed in her mouth as she nestled against her mother. Marin smiled at the sight, then gently kissed her daughter's forehead. "Your father would have loved you very much too, had he known." She gave a sad sigh of regret at that, drawing her cloak over the sleeping baby.

Someone politely clearing their throat broke through her reverie. She looked back to see Bevil, standing half-hidden behind a tree-fall, his expression hesitant at having disturbed her. His patrol had met up with them the evening before, in a coincidence Marin didn't believe for a moment, and their reunion had been emotional, to say the least. Since then, he'd taken on the responsibility of her safe return to Crossroad Keep as his personal duty.

As she watched his cautious approach, she was reminded strangely of his mother, who'd always looked out for her as a waif. Pushing that aside, Marin glanced down at the sleeping baby in her arms. "It's rare I manage to get her to sleep without too much trouble."

"I guess she takes after her mother," said Bevil. He hesitated then, cautious around her child, "Mother said you screamed for three days straight after the battle."

"While I don't doubt your mother, I struggle to see Daeghun standing for that," replied Marin lightly.

"I guess he figured out a way," said Bevil. He looked down at the sleeping Marisca, his expression softening. "As I'm sure you will."

* * *

Marin's spirits soared as they crested the last hill and she saw Crossroad Keep lying in the valley below, solid and secure, surrounded by fertile and well-kept farmlands. A completely different view from the one she'd seen when first laying eyes on the keep. She half-smiled to herself, remembering.

Bevil reined in at her side and looked across to her, curious. "What?"

"Just remembering something I said to Nevalle, once," replied Marin. She looked across at her oldest friend, smiling wistfully. "It was when we returned to the keep, after Black Garius attacked Neverwinter Castle and Lord Nasher had wanted me to join the Neverwinter Nine. We crested the hill to see the keep being rebuilt, and I told him how you and I used to play castles in your family's barn, but... well, I was feeling melancholy; West Harbour had just fallen to shadow and I thought you were... well... he just said 'we do what we do to ensure that no other child's dreams turn to ruin'..."

"You did more than that, Marin," replied Bevil, bringing his hand to his heart and inclining his head to her. "You saved us all..."

"I'm still just me, Bevil," replied Marin, reaching across and grasping his shoulder. "I just did what was necessary, what anyone in my position would've done."

His expression turned mischievous then, glancing down at Marisca, travelling nestled within Marin's arms. "And then some."

"Fine, have it your way," replied Marin, feeling her cheeks colour. "Then answer me this: Khelgar says Neeshka swears you and Kana are more than just... comrades, or whatever it is you want to call it."

Bevil flushed immediately. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Marin grinned then, sensing weakness, "Oh, come on now Bevil, I haven't seen you blush so badly since that last Harvest Fair, when..."

"That was different!" stammered Bevil, the red blush colouring him from chin to hairline. "You were... and I... I mean... I didn't... well... what I mean is, I mean..."

"So Neeshka is right," said Marin, laughing delightedly.

Bevil shifted awkwardly in his saddle. "Captain, could we _please _talk about something else?"

She looked across at her oldest friend, smiling fondly. "Relax, Bevil, I'm just teasing you. I'm very happy for you, both."

Bevil was saved from making a reply by a sudden shout from the side of the road. Curious about the larger-than-normal patrol returning, the farmers working the fields had drawn closer, and someone had finally recognised Marin. News of her return spread like wildfire, and by the time they reached the outer walls of the keep the battlements were lined with cheering soldiers.

A slim, dark-haired woman clad in a pristine tabard bearing the crest of Crossroad Keep was waiting for them in the stable yard, standing at the foot of the pathway up to the main keep. She looked up to Marin with an expression akin to awe, then bowed to her with profound respect. "Welcome home, Knight-Captain. If I may presume to speak on behalf of all here, we are honoured to serve you once more."

"Thank you, Kana," replied Marin, swallowing hard against the emotion her homecoming and Kana's greeting had evoked. "It's really good to be back home."

The silence that had suddenly descended in the yard was interrupted by a baby's cry; Marisca protesting against being held tightly to her mother's side. An amazed ripple spread through the crowd, followed swiftly by cheers and then thunderous applause. Even Kana couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face.

Marin handed Marisca down to Bevil before dismounting nimbly. She was immediately surrounded by a crush of people, all talking at once, shaking her hands, congratulating her, clapping her on the back, the noise was incredible.

A rush of feet and squeal of excitement was the only warning Marin had before she was almost bowled over by Neeshka. The tiefling crashed into her, hugging her fiercely, her jumbled words lost in the din of the crowd.

"All right, all right," said Khelgar, pushing his way through people to come over and join them. "Give the lass a moment, it's a wonder she kin even breathe with ye' hanging off her like that."

"It's all right for you," returned Neeshka, stepping back and drying her eyes. "You've had weeks and weeks to get used to seeing Marin again; I've only had a few moments. I'm almost out of my skin, I can hardly believe it."

"Ruddy tieflings, always so damned excitable," replied Khelgar good-naturedly.

Marin grinned at them both, "I'm glad to see you two didn't kill each other while I was gone." With an excited bark, Fedain leapt up at Neeshka, putting his paws on her shoulders and enthusiastically licking her damp cheeks. She over-balanced, sitting down hard while Khelgar tried to shoo the wolf away.

Seeing Neeshka and Khelgar distracted for a moment, Kana took the opportunity to take her captain to one side for a moment. "Your father awaits on the battlements, Knight-Captain. I think he would prefer a private reunion."

Marin nodded, then caught Neeshka's attention. "Would you mind watching Marisca for a while? I think maybe I should get the initial shock out of the way for Daeghun before I introduce him to his granddaughter."

"Of course," said Neeshka. She scrambled to her feet and carefully took Marisca from Bevil. Fedain immediately calmed down, moving to position himself to shield her and Marisca from the excited crowds. The baby girl just gurgled in delight, making a grab at Neeshka's tail.

Marin smiled, bestowing a kiss on her daughter's forehead, "Thanks; I'll catch up with you girls in a bit then."

* * *

Daeghun turned to greet her, his face wearing its usual enigmatic expression. "I see the moon has been at your back. You look well, Marin."

She hesitated, uncertain. He made no move to embrace her or otherwise make physical contact to welcome her home, although she thought she noted a slight tightening about his mouth and eyes. "Khelgar wasn't sure you'd be here when we got back."

"I'm glad Fedain found you," said Daeghun then, inclining his head to the wolf that had followed her out onto the battlements and was now lying at her feet. "He chose to accompany me into the Vale, after the King of Shadows fell. He refused to leave when the search was called off, just lay down before the cairn I built, as if he knew you'd come back one day."

"He found me there," replied Marin, reaching down to scratch the wolf behind his ears, more for something else to do rather than stand awkwardly before her foster father. Their reunion wasn't going the way she'd imagined. "He drew my attention to the cairn; for a few moments I actually thought the flowers had been placed there by..." she paused, biting back a sudden rush of emotion. Swallowing hard, she continued, "...before I remembered your annual visit to Shayla's grave."

The tightening around Daeghun's eyes grew more pronounced, and Marin instantly regretted bringing up his wife. Daeghun sighed, "It is a pity you have had to experience such loss; I know you cared for him."

"I _loved_ him, not that it matters to you," said Marin before she could stop herself.

"That is not..." They were interrupted by the door opening behind them and both turned to be greeted by an infant's cries.

Neeshka appeared, still holding Marisca and looking extremely apologetic. "I'm really sorry to be disturbing you, but we just can't seem to calm her down. Bevil thinks all these strange people fussing over her has her scared, and we think she wants her mother."

Marin went over immediately, taking her daughter from Neeshka and trying to comfort her as best she could. As the infant continued screaming Marin looked to Daeghun with a rueful smile, "Allow me to introduce my daughter, Marisca. I guess you could call her your foster granddaughter."

"That was unkind and unnecessary, Marin," Daeghun chided her, watching with an unfathomable expression.

Marin winced as Marisca gave a particularly shrill scream, patting her daughter's back as she tried to soothe her. "Old habits, I guess. She's usually better-behaved than this; being difficult must run in the family."

"Here, give her to me," said Daeghun unexpectedly. Marin looked up at him, surprised, but he just held out his arms and prompted her again, "Give her to me."

Against her better judgement Marin allowed him to take Marisca from her, quickly moving to support the infant's head as soon as she let her go but Daeghun had it covered. She stared at him, astounded as he gently rocked the baby, crooning in the elven language, his expression softening as Marisca's cries lessened. "How...?"

"How do you think I raised you, Marin?" asked Daeghun, his voice thick with emotion. He took a moment, resting his cheek on the top of his granddaughter's head, then spoke in a more normal tone. "Her crying makes you tense up, and you communicate that to her through your body, that there's still something to be scared of. You need to reassure her – with your body and your voice – that she's safe. It was one of the hardest things I had to learn."

"I..."

Daeghun looked down as Marisca quietened, and actually smiled when he saw she had one thumb jammed in her mouth. He gently kissed her forehead. "Just don't go off again and get yourself killed; I don't know if I've got the strength to raise another daughter, especially if she's as headstrong as her mother."

Marin looked across to her daughter, then at Daeghun, tears welling up in her eyes. In all her life she'd never stopped to consider what raising her had cost him. "I... thank you," she said simply.

Daeghun tentatively rested his hand on his daughter's shoulder, unaccustomed to showing emotion, uncomfortable with her showing hers. "There is something else I should tell you, Marin. Before you left for the Vale of Merdelain through Aldanon's portal, Casavir sought me out. He... asked for your hand in marriage. I... just thought you should know."

"What did you say?"

"That I couldn't presume to speak on your behalf, that you were too strong-willed and independent-minded for that," replied Daeghun wryly. He gazed up into the stars, absently rocking Marisca in his arms, remembering. "I told him that you would grace him with your hand if you deemed him worthy enough, but that he had my blessing if you chose so..."

Marin smiled sadly, then unexpectedly hugged him. "Thank you, Father."

"Yes, well... that is in the past now." Daeghun straightened, inclining his head to her. "Walk well, Daughter. Your mother would be proud of you."


	7. Echoes of the Past

**Echoes of the Past**

* * *

"Patrol returning!"

Captain Kana reached the courtyard as the patrol clattered in, Marin in the lead. She inclined her head respectfully as the tiefling dismounted and handed her reins over to a waiting groom, "Knight-Captain, a... ah... visitor arrived in your absence. He's waiting for you in the Phoenix Tail Inn."

Marin squinted at her chief of staff, shading her eyes from the setting sun. "You seem hesitant, Kana. What's the matter?"

"Knight-Captain, might I advise Lieutenant Starling and I accompany you to the inn? As a precaution, you understand. We're not expecting any foreign dignitaries, and I thought it best not to allow him admittance into the Keep without proper credentials. Something about this 'visitor' is off."

"Speak your mind, Kana," said Marin. "Something else is still bothering you?"

Kana shifted uneasily. "It's just... he wouldn't tell me his name or where he was from when I asked; he just said that my dreams would gain a deeper current if I only allowed myself inner freedom, or something like that. It didn't make any sense, sir."

Marin stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then starting laughing. "Oh, that's too rich! I could just see him saying that to you. Don't put much faith in it."

"You know this person, sir?" asked Kana, surprised.

"That sounds very much like someone I met in Rashemen, though what he's doing on the Sword Coast I have no idea," replied Marin. She headed towards the inn, indicating Kana should follow. "Let's go find out."

* * *

Gannayev of Dreams stood before the fireplace, one elbow resting on the mantelpiece as he flirted with the blushing barmaid. Tall and as ruggedly handsome as she remembered, he still carried about himself that air of casual indifference and sarcastic half-smile. He looked up and smiled languidly when he saw Marin, with Kana just a step behind her. "Marin, your good captain here saw fit not to admit my lovely presence into the main keep. I believe those captivating eyes of hers saw nothing but dishonesty in my countenance."

"I wonder why," replied Marin, greeting him with a warm smile and hug. "Don't be too hard on her; she was just doing her job."

Kana saluted stiffly then, seeing that her commander really did know the stranger and that he, apparently, posed no threat to her liege. "Knight-Captain, if there's nothing else?"

"Thank you Kana," replied Marin, secretly amused at the stoic soldier's reaction to Gann. "Please ask Harcourt to prepare for an additional guest to dinner this evening."

"As you wish, Knight-Captain," replied Kana. She inclined her head briefly to Gann, the curt gesture speaking volumes, then turned and left the inn.

Gann sighed theatrically, "I believe she still thinks the worst of me. Is this my curse, that everywhere I should go people automatically judge me, assuming there must lurk some horrendous intentions beneath this beautiful face?"

"You don't do much to negate that impression," replied Marin. "In fact, I think you go out of your way to cultivate it, to have a tale of mournful injustice with which to woo the next pretty face you see."

"Ah, you wound me to the quick with your cynical words, _Knight-Captain_," replied Gann, his violet eyes twinkling. "I am but a poor hagspawn, though undoubtedly the most handsome you'll ever see, seemingly beset by challenges every way I turn."

Marin laughed as she led the way over to her usual table, signalling to Sal to bring them a bottle of wine. "It's good to see you too, Gann."

"And it has been far too long since I last had opportunity to gaze upon your flawless beauty, dear lady," replied Gann, taking her hand.

Marin flushed despite herself, "I thought we had agreed you wouldn't do that anymore."

"Oh, I only have eyes for my Anya now but I couldn't resist gracing you with at least one compliment, however slight, for old times' sake," said Gann. He smiled gently, "She was blooming when I left; we've just had our first child, a gorgeous little girl we've called Marina, after you."

"Congratulations," managed Marin, surprised in no small way by his admission. She remembered the farm girl they'd rescued from becoming lost in her infatuated dreams about Gann, but would never have guessed he'd eventually settle down with her. "And thank you for the honour."

Sal brought over a bottle of the Captain's Reserve and two goblets, and Gann poured for them. "To old friends and new beginnings," he proposed, raising his goblet.

Marin raised hers too, clinking it briefly against his before taking a sip. "So what brings you to Crossroad Keep, Gann? Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm not happy to see you, I'm just a touch apprehensive about what would be grave enough to make you leave your wife and travel half-way across the world just after the birth of your daughter."

"Simply put, it's about you," replied Gann. He swirled his goblet, studying the deep colour of the red wine. "I may have... stumbled... across something I thought you should see. That you _have _to see, I think."

"When are you going to stop speaking in riddles and just tell me why you're here?" asked Marin. Something big enough had clearly happened to move him to seek her out, but his circumspect manner about disclosing the matter was concerning.

"I'll go one better, and show you." Gann set down his goblet and reached across the table, resting his hand lightly against her temple. Their surroundings faded as the inn walls rippled and gave way to dreamscape.

_Marin found herself standing on a castle's battlements, beneath a starry sky. The dreamscape was tinged an eerie silvery-grey, fainter than she remembered. Gann appeared at her side and explained, "This is my memory of a dream I walked recently. I no longer seek out the dreams of others with my Anya at my side, but occasionally one is experienced so strongly by the dreamer that one with the dreamer's eye cannot help but see it. Do you know where we are?"_

_She looked about, recognising familiar structures all around her. "Crossroad Keep, during the Shadow War. Look, you can see where the fortifications were still being upgraded the..." The breath caught in her throat as she realised the when of where they were, "...the night before the shadow army attacked."_

_A door from the tower opened behind them and she turned to see herself emerge. She was clad in a green silk gown, freshly bathed after their exertions to slow down the advancing army, her copper hair spilling like molten gold over her shoulders and down her back in long graceful curls. _

"_Vision of an angel," breathed Gann at her side. _

_Marin held her breath as another figure stepped through the door. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed upon Casavir, clad in the customary blue doublet he wore when not under arms. His black hair was slightly damp, as if he too had just bathed, his crystal blue eyes sombre and downcast as he followed her out onto the battlements._

_The Marin of the dream turned from admiring the calm night to look at him, her amber eyes questioning. "You wanted to speak with me, Casavir?"_

"_I... I did... oh, Tyr give me strength." The paladin took a deep breath after muttering a prayer to his god. "I do, my lady. It does not seem chivalrous of me to stand on the eve of a momentous battle to defend all that we hold dear, and to continue concealing this matter from you."_

"_Casavir, I..." _

"_Please let me speak, my lady. I've kept my silence on this for far too long. You are... to say that I greatly respect you, admire you, does not do true justice to what I..." He broke off awkwardly. "My lady, I am no bard, skilled with honeyed words and beguiling looks with which to charm a beautiful woman... what I'm trying to say is... I..."_

"_I know," whispered Marin along with the Marin of the dream, who reached up and placed a gentle hand on the back of his head, drawing him down to kiss him softly on the lips. "And I love you too."_

_For a moment after their kiss he stood frozen, then drew a shuddering breath, pulled her to him and kissed her with such passion that left them both breathless. After, he held her close within the circle of his arms, gazing at her in wonder. "My lady... Marin, I love you."_

_She reached out and gently touched his lips with her finger. "There, that wasn't nearly as difficult as you thought it would be, was it?"_

_His hand curled about her finger, raising her hand to his lips. "My lady is right to chastise me. It was thoughtless of me to remain silent on this for so long, not wanting to distract you from the burdens you carry, but not giving pause for a moment for what you might be feeling. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"_

_She laughed delightedly, kissing him again. "Relax, my love, I was just teasing you." She gave a theatrical stretch, looking about at the dark sky. "The hour grows late, maybe we should retire for the night."_

"_My lady, I am content to stand here with you in my arms all night long if it pleases you."_

"_Liar." She grinned impishly, took his hand and firmly led him to the door, and back inside. _

_Marin made to follow but Gann caught her arm and held her back. "The dreamer holds what came next very close to his heart. I wouldn't want to intrude."_

_Marin stared at him, feeling the world spinning as they started surfacing from the dream, "Gann, I... I don't understand..." _

"_This isn't your dream, Marin."_

The bustle and noise of the inn returned in full as the dream ended; the clattering of cutlery to plates as patrons ate their evening meal, the strumming of the bard's lute as he tuned it in preparation for another night of performance, the calls of the staff as they served their customers.

Gann repeated himself gently, resting his hand on her shoulder, "That wasn't your dream, Marin. That's what I came to show you."

"If it's not mine, then..." Marin gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. "If it's not mine, then..." She stared ashen-faced at Gann, disbelieving, "Can you walk the dreams of the dead?"

Gann shook his head, prying one of her hands free and holding it in both of his. "Echoes of the past only linger in places of great power, like that mosstone we found in Immil Vale. There may be other explanations for this, and I strongly advise caution, but the passions and emotions I experienced when walking this dream the first time suggest only one thing."

"Casavir lives," breathed Marin.


	8. Finding the Path

**Finding the Path**

* * *

The Eye of Gulk'aush swivelled disturbingly in the silver setting Sand had crafted for it. The first time she had used it had been to enter the dreamscape of the Slumbering Coven, in an attempt to understand the spirit-eater affliction she'd been cursed with. Since then she'd only used it rarely, and only ever with Gann's guidance. But what she was about to do was far too personal for that.

She sat down cross-legged on the bed and placed the artefact before her. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and ran through an old exercise Tarmas had taught her, designed to calm the mind in preparation for spell-casting. Then, holding the image of Casavir firmly in her mind's eye, she gently set her fingertips against the Eye and plunged into dreamscape.

_At the head of the canyon, hidden amongst the rocks, Katriona moved in a low crouch to kneel at his side. "They have the upper hand for the moment, sir. Do we move to attack, or watch?"_

_He studied the battle a moment longer. The fighting seethed around a tiefling and dwarf standing back-to-back, the stocky dwarf breaking bones and crushing skulls with a flaming mace and the slender tiefling deftly slicing and parrying with a pair of fighting knives. "Hold our position; they are in no immediate danger, and they came from the Neverwinter camp. Let's not give our presence away unless we have to."_

_The battle's pace quickened as it neared its conclusion, the ranks of orcs thinning. He half-started to his feet as a particularly heavy blow from one brute sent the tiefling's knife spinning from her off-hand. Without missing a beat she threw a spray of mystical lights into the orc's face, dazzling it even as she ran it through._

"_A versatile fighter," remarked Katriona. "I've not seen any who can switch between sword and spell with such ease."_

"_Beings with fiendish heritage often have otherworldly powers." He frowned as he extended his paladin's sense, sifting through the clashing auras in the canyon. The angry red of dying orcs dominated, interspersed with flickers of white and grey from the adventuring band's archers and a steady white emanating from the dwarf. He concentrated on the tiefling until her aura was almost palpable to him, a surprisingly but decidedly white shimmer._

_One of the archers called out and the tiefling feinted to the right, drawing the orc's attack high before suddenly diving to the left out of the path of a flight of arrows. She rolled across the uneven ground, retrieving her lost blade and coming fluidly to her feet even as she struck down another._

"_The orcs are about to break," predicted Katriona._

_Coruscating colours flared as the tiefling cast a scintillating sphere into the midst of the remaining orcs, felling two more. The rest turned to flee and the dwarf laughed, almost negligently tossing a throwing axe to kill another, "Well, that was entertaining."_

_From their location at the head of the canyon, beyond the effects of the tiefling's magic, the hidden force spotted a fresh wave of orcs moving forward under a cover of darkness to confront the band. Katriona took a quick count under her breath before the light of the spell faded. "They'll be over-run, sir."_

"_Then let's move," he commanded, rising from concealment and unlimbering his warhammer. "Attack!"_

_The new wave of orcs rushed the adventurers from three sides, backing the dwarf up against the rocky wall of the canyon, forcing the archers to drop their bows and draw short-swords, driving the tiefling further away from her comrades. A hair-raising howl split the air as a grey wolf emerged from the shadows, tearing into the orcs with his fangs in an attempt to protect his mistress._

_He fought towards her as she battled with blade and spell, but for every orc he killed three more seemed to appear. The tides of battle pressed the tiefling further and further away despite his desperate efforts to reach her. _

_Suddenly, above the din of battle the dwarf shouted out, "Behind yeh, lass!"_

_An orc struck her from behind, staggering her with a heavy blow from its shield. She stumbled, trying to stand on legs that could no longer hold her, her weapons slipping from nerveless fingers. Time stood still as she looked up directly at him, and he saw her face clearly for the first time. Her features were even, smooth skin the colour of honey, two small horns almost lost in the wealth of copper curls framing her face and most noticeable of all, her striking amber eyes..._

_Then she reached out to him with a trembling hand, her pain-filled eyes imploring him, "Casavir, help me!"_

_He renewed his struggles to reach for her, his movements slowed as if he was swimming against a heavy current, his legs burdened down like lead. A dark shadow loomed behind her, moonlight glinting off an upraised blade. _

_Their fingertips brushed as the blade plunged down, and her amber eyes widened in pain and shock. Disbelieving, they both looked down to see the bloody point of a sword protruding from her chest. She opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but only a trickle of blood emerged. Then her killer put his boot to her back, kicking her off the blade, and she stumbled forward to collapse in his arms. _

_"Marin, oh Marin!" he cried out, sinking to the ground cradling her in his arms. "I failed you..."_

_The canyon faded as Marin stepped out of the darkness, disrupting the currents of the dream. "That's not what happened, Casavir. You pulled me away from that death blow. You saved me, then, and many times after."_

_Her broken body vanished from his arms, and he started to his feet in shock. "Marin... you... you live? But how..." _

"_This is but a dream, my love," said Marin, tears coming to her eyes as she reached out to him. "Don't lose hope. I'm here. And I will find you." _

_Disbelieving, he raised a tentative hand to her chest, feeling the unbroken skin beneath her tunic, no sign of the killing blow he'd just witnessed. She caught his hand in hers and he shuddered at her touch, pulling her to him and cupping her face in his hands before kissing her tenderly. She gave herself over, sinking into the intoxicating embrace._

_A great ripping noise tore though the dream and she heard Gann's jarring voice, "Marin! Let go! You're being sucked into the dream!"_

_He pulled back, startled, looking around for the intruder. "What...?"_

_"Casavir!" cried Marin, clinging him to her desperately as the fabric of the dream unravelled rapidly around her. "No, don't leave me!" _

_Casavir steadied her as the world started spinning around them. She howled in frustration when she saw his lips move but heard no words, the dream dissolving into nothingness..._

Marin lurched upright to hear Marisca wailing in terror. She scrambled off the bed and ran through the archway into her daughter's room to see the toddler curled up in a tight ball beneath her covers, little fists balled over her ears, eyes screwed shut as she lay screaming in response to her mother's animal-like howl. Berating herself, Marin scooped Marisca up into her arms and clasped her close, gently rocking her child as she spoke her name soothingly.

A sharp rap at the door caused Marisca to howl even more. At that the door burst open to reveal Gann, dishevelled and disturbed. Seeing she was alright and tending to her daughter, he managed to modulate his anger somewhat. "Next time you plan to do something like that, warn me first. Or better still; wait for me to join you. You almost lost yourself there."

She nodded, murmuring soothing nonsense to calm her child's crying. Gann smiled then, despite himself. "Still, I think your madcap actions may have yielded some fruit. I was able to hold the dream together a moment longer than you. He was saying something about '_Luskan'_, if that means anything?"

Marin nodded grimly, still gently rocking Marisca in her arms. "Tomorrow we ride for Neverwinter. The Luskan ambassador is returning to Lord Nasher's court, and I _will _have answers."


	9. The Luskan Ambassador

**The Luskan Ambassador**

* * *

"Lady Marin, you look beautiful, as always," said Nevalle, giving her an appreciative look as he took her hand, raising it to his lips. "Motherhood must agree with you."

"That's most kind of you, Sir Nevalle," replied Marin, laughing. "It's a good thing you're seeing me now and not back when Marisca was teething. I was hardly getting any sleep at all."

Nevalle offered her his arm and they joined the flow of people towards the royal banqueting hall. All of Neverwinter's finest had turned out for the social event of the season; a grand ball held ostensibly to celebrate the normalising of diplomatic relations between Luskan and Neverwinter.

"It seems strange to think we're welcoming the Luskans back into Neverwinter already," remarked Marin. She'd heard confirmation that the new Luskan ambassador had arrived in the city earlier that day. "Not even two years after that business with Torio Claven and Black Garius, during the Shadow War."

"That's politics for you," replied Nevalle. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Lord Nasher is playing an astute game; by being the first to open diplomatic channels, he's showing the Lords' Alliance that Neverwinter is willing to put the past behind her." He glanced at her, and smiled. "Which is not to say we haven't taken precautions, of course."

They entered the banqueting hall's antechamber, overflowing with people waiting to enter. Nevalle glanced at Marin, a slight smile on his lips, then headed purposively to the front. Even though he wore a rich blue surcoat in place of the usual tabard marking him as one of the Nine, people melted out of Nevalle's way. More than a few stared at Marin as they passed, still unaccustomed to the presence of a tiefling in high society.

The Master of Ceremonies struck his iron-shod staff on the stone floor before announcing their arrival in a booming voice, "Sir Nevalle, Knight-Captain of the Neverwinter Nine, and Lady A'Shaller, Knight-Captain of Crossroad Keep."

"Do you know who the Luskan ambassador is this time round?" asked Marin of Nevalle, her hand resting lightly on his arm as they made their way down the grand staircase to rippling applause.

"An old friend, surprisingly," replied Nevalle. "None other than Torio Claven."

"It's strange Luskan would choose to send her, given her history with Neverwinter," remarked Marin. Given the unexpected aid she'd received from Torio in escaping Luskan maybe she stood to gain more information about Casavir's whereabouts, although she still didn't quite know what to make of all that had happened on that day she'd come through the Hosttower's portal. "I would have thought it would make more sense for the Luskans to send a new ambassador, one without ties to Black Garius and the war."

Nevalle inclined his head, leading her through the throngs of people to pay their respects to Lord Nasher. "Experience has taught us all a hard lesson; Torio may be a snake, but at least we know where we stand with her."

* * *

Nevalle touched her arm, drawing her attention to a group of people nearby. "Tread lightly; the Luskan ambassador approaches."

Torio Claven was surrounded by an entourage of Luskan guards but nevertheless bowed politely to Marin. "Knight-Captain, you're looking well."

Marin returned the gesture gracefully, determined to play nice as long as her counterpart did. "Welcome back to Neverwinter, ambassador."

"I trust your term this time around will be spent working in the best interests of _both _our peoples," said Nevalle, his tone pointed. He bowed to her as well, albeit a brief jerk of his head.

"Naturally, mi'lord; I am but here to serve." Torio smiled lazily, looking every inch her old arrogant self. She looked across to Marin, her tone then enquiring. "Mi'lady, if you would give me a moment in private? There is something of a delicate matter I wish to discuss with you."

Nevalle reached reflexively for Marin's hand. "Remember your place, ambassador. Lady Marin is amongst the most respected of Neverwinter nobility; do not forget that."

Marin rested her hand reassuringly on his arm, her heart pounding painfully in her throat. Did Torio know something? "Relax, Anton. I'm sure the ambassador has come with the best intentions."

Nevalle looked troubled, but nevertheless acquiesced, raising her hand to his lips. "My lady." He nodded briefly to Torio before walking away.

"So you're on first name basis with the noble Nevalle," observed Torio, dismissing her entourage with a negligent flick of her hand.

"He's an old friend, nothing more, if that is what you seek to imply," replied Marin, a touch of ice entering her expression. They entered a side apartment off the main hall, and Marin crossed her arms, trying to hide her trembling hands. She forced her voice to remain level, aloof. "So what is this 'delicate matter' you speak of?"

Torio closed the door and glanced around, ascertaining their conversation would pass unheard. "First of all, I want you to know that I had no idea of this when you came through the Hosttower portal. At that time I had just returned to Luskan, and had to rebuild many of my contacts amongst the mages. This has only recently come to my attention."

"Get to the point, Torio," said Marin bluntly, feeling her irritation growing. "I have no time for your games, and would ask you something as well."

"Please, Lady Marin, we're on the same side here," said Torio. "Since your return I've brought three Luskan plots against you to Nevalle's attention. Luskan has learnt they can't get to you; they've failed too many times to bloody their noses again trying."

Marin stared at her, at a loss for words.

"As you know, there are many factions vying for power within the four towers of the Arcane Brotherhood. Black Garius' fall left a power vacuum that the towers are still scrabbling to fill. Matron Melina of the West was leading the way, but just before I left for Neverwinter Thelonius of the North revealed his hand. His tower holds a prisoner upon which the full weight of Luskan's vengeance for the war can fall. Support is flocking to his side."

Marin gripped the back of a chair to steady herself, feeling the room spinning about her. She knew he lived and should not be startled, but hearing the confirmation was sending her senses reeling. "Are you saying...?"

Torio nodded. "Thelonius holds captive a paladin, retrieved by the Hosttower from the rubble of the Shadow Keep, before the rescue forces could reach him."

Marin's breath caught in her throat, remembering what Khelgar had said... _the mages sensed no life force beyond the rock fall_... because the Luskan mages had already taken him... she tried to breathe but her chest felt like it was caught in an invisible vice-grip. For a moment she saw Torio moving towards her, but then her vision gave way to suffocating blackness.

* * *

She was sitting in a chair, her head held between her knees by Torio. The Luskan ambassador was calling for someone to fetch Nevalle, who wasn't long in coming.

"Marin! Gods, you're as white as a sheet!" cried Nevalle, rushing to her side. "Quickly, get her something to drink!"

Torio went to the door, taking a glass of wine from one of the curious onlookers already gathered, "Don't trouble yourselves, my dears, Lady Marin has just received some distressing news, is all." With that she firmly closed the door in the onlookers' faces and brought the glass across to Marin.

"By the gods, Marin, what's happened?" asked Nevalle, but she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Instead she took a gulp of the wine and gestured towards Torio. Nevalle looked to the Luskan ambassador, his expression thunderous.

"What the Knight-Captain is trying to say is, I just shared with her some news which confirmed something she already suspected," said Torio. "Although how she caught wind of it in the first place I have no idea."

"Casavir lives, Anton," said Marin weakly. "He was taken by the Hosttower before rescuers could reach him."

Nevalle looked swiftly to Torio. "You're certain of this?"

"Unequivocally," answered Torio. "Officially, he's charged with the murder of Sydney Natale, with Khralver Irlingstar providing sworn testimony as a witness. Unofficially, everyone who's anyone in Luskan knows the blow it would strike at Lady Marin to... well, I'm sure you can use your imagination."

Marin stared at Torio, struggling to process it all. "Sydney's whelp wasn't even there; Qara killed Sydney when she tried to ambush Zhjaeve and I, over the shadow-reavers' true names. How the hell does Luskan think it can get away with this?"

"The happenings of the Hosttower are not generally publicised," replied Torio. "News of this 'trial' will never become public knowledge. Rest assured, though, they'll make sure _you _learn about it, in a hundred little gruesome ways, but never with a provable link back to Luskan as the perpetrator."

"Marin, let's be reasonable about this," Nevalle warned her.

"Be reasonable?" The tiefling turned her furious gaze on the knight, her eyes gleaming red with rising anger. "Be reasonable? There is nothing to be reasonable about! Casavir's alive and we know where he is; we must rescue him!"

"He is being held in the North Tower, under heavy guard," said Torio. The Luskan ambassador stood to one side, tugging at her lip, her expression troubled. "It won't be easy."

"I defeated the King of Shadows and survived. Gods above, I've even assaulted the City of Judgement itself and bargained with the God of the Dead," returned Marin, her determination unwavering. "I will prevail."

Nevalle persisted. "Marin, you can't just go tearing off to Luskan on your own personal mission. You risk starting another war, and one we can ill afford. Never mind you'd risk jeopardising Torio's position and exposing her as a friend of Neverwinter."

"That shouldn't be a problem, Sir Nevalle," said Torio then. "It's a simple matter to implicate Elardus as the mole; he's a first mage in Master Thelonius's service, known to be somewhat indiscreet in the past, and he poses a greater threat to Neverwinter right now in his quest to please his master than does Master Thelonius."

Nevalle gave her a dark look. "You're not helping here, Torio. Lord Nasher would never approve of such a course of action."

"I don't need his approval!" snapped Marin. "Nasher be..."

Nevalle interrupted her hastily. "Marin, carefully. Do not throw away everything you have achieved in a moment of..."

"No, Anton. I have asked nothing of Neverwinter, despite all I have done for her," hissed Marin. "Neverwinter _owes _me this! I'm sorry to have to put it this way, but I'll make it really simple for you. Either you say nothing about this until I return, or—"

"That is uncalled for, my lady," said Nevalle, in a voice as cold as ice. "I do not respond well to threats."

"Neither do I, as you well know, but I will not back down from this," replied Marin, her voice equally as cold.  
"What say you?"

Nevalle locked glares with her for a moment longer, then shook his head. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this."

"Then you'll say nothing?"

"I'll say nothing for now, my lady," he conceded reluctantly. "There is a brewery half a day's ride south of Luskan, called The Master's Arms. Find Master Brewer Jacobins and tell him his cousin Antonius sent you; he'll be able to get you into the city unseen. As for getting into the Hosttower, you're on your own there. Not even _my_ arm reaches that far."

"No need to trouble yourself about that, dear Nevalle," drawled Torio. She raised her voice slightly as she opened the door and stepped out into the passage, "Lady Marin, I'm terribly sorry to hear about the news you've received from home, that your darling little daughter is so very ill? And she's such a precious thing, I hope she'll pull through just as her mother always has. You absolutely must bring her to court the next time you come."

"Thank you, ambassador," replied Marin, not missing a beat as the ambassador handed her an alibi on a silver platter. "I'm sure she will be fine."

"Lady Marin, I know you're worried about your daughter right now, but you'll surely not leave for Crossroad Keep until the morning? I'll escort you myself," said Nevalle, playing along. He stepped through the door as well, offering Marin his arm as he whispered, "For the sake of appearances."

She nodded imperceptibly, even as Torio bowed to her, "Mi'lady, it has been a pleasure to see you again, even under these sad circumstances. Please do seek me out before you retire for the evening. I'm sure you would absolutely _hate_ to miss the opportunity to say good night."


	10. On the Road Again

**On the Road Again**

* * *

"How much further?" asked Gann wearily, summoning a small globe spirit to give them enough light to see by as dusk fell.

"We should come across Nevalle's brewery before morning," replied Marin. Since slipping out of Neverwinter in the early hours of the morning they had been travelling non-stop, changing horses at every inn they came across. "When we find it we can rest up until sunrise, or whatever time you think decent for us to present ourselves to Master Brewer Jacobin. From there he said it's a half-day's ride... hopefully we'll reach Luskan by nightfall tomorrow."

Gann grinned through his fatigue, "The perfect time to break into a hostile mages' tower."

"If Torio's plan works. I'm still not convinced we can fully trust her, but she has helped us so far," said Marin. To say nothing of Nevalle's trust in the woman, strange as it was. Perhaps she was too suspicious. She sighed then, thinking of something else.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to get it from Khelgar and Neeshka when we get back, that's all," replied Marin. When she'd left for Neverwinter she'd told them to remain at the keep and watch over Marisca, taking Gann along with her instead as an ally unknown to Luskan. "They'll never forgive me for not bringing them along to this."

Gann chuckled. "Don't worry, I already 'got it' from them. Your friends know you too well."

"What do you mean?"

"They both took me aside before we left for Neverwinter, and warned me that I was not to allow you to go off on some hare-brained scheme without them should we pick up any leads on Casavir's location."

Marin raised an eyebrow at that, although if she was honest with herself she hadn't really expected any other reaction from them. "I see. And failing that?"

"Failing that, dear lady, and perhaps knowing you'd not be deterred if we _did _find anything, they threatened me with all sorts of unpleasant things should I allow anything foul befall you. The dwarf was most insistent about grinding his grimy axe into my beautiful face if I let anything happen to you. Amongst other things I care not to repeat in front of a lady."

Marin looked across at him, her expression grim. "Let me guess, you told them that if anything happened to me you'd already be dead."

"Something like that," replied Gann lightly. "Although when I gave your friends my response it sounded far more eloquent than you've just put it."

"Well then, we'd better make sure that doesn't come to pass."

"My thoughts exactly, dear lady."

Marin said nothing more as she urged her horse on. She knew she was being reckless, that she should be putting her daughter's future above herself, but she couldn't help it. She burnt with the need to find Casavir, seething at what he must have endured for two years in Luskan hands.

She thought then of the sealed parchment she'd given Nevalle before they'd left Neverwinter, trying to soothe her guilty conscience. Marisca would be well taken care of if she didn't return, she'd seen to that at least. Just another reason not to have sent word to Crossroad Keep for Khelgar and Neeshka.


	11. Host Tower of the Arcane

Host Tower of the Arcane

* * *

Marin's gaze darted nervously about the entrance hall of the Host Tower, searching for danger, but as far as she could tell they were alone, undetected. She took a shuddering breath, then tossed aside the embossed scroll they'd used to gain access. It landed in a corner, hardly hidden from sight, but such had been Torio's instruction.

Gann looked around curiously. "Given all I've heard, I'd have thought breaking into this place would've been more difficult. What exactly did your so-called ambassador do for us?"

"I'm not entirely sure, and at this point I'd rather not argue," replied Marin, reaching reflexively for her fighting knives. She stayed her hands, taking a deep breath. "I'd rather just find Casavir and get the hell out of here."

"Up or down?" asked Gann then. He looked to the stairs, "I don't know about up; the stories usually go on about how the damsels in distress are locked up in towers, but I'm not sure where to look for lost paladins."

"Very funny," replied Marin sarcastically. She nodded towards an iron-studded door that looked promising, "Although in this case I think you're right; everything I've heard about the Host Tower suggests searching for dank dungeons will be our best bet."

The door opened as they reached it, revealing a swarthy mage dressed in black robes. He looked up in surprise to see them but before he could react Marin threw a sharp kick to his stomach. As he doubled over she brought her knee up into his falling face, then smashed an elbow down to the back of his head. He slumped silently to the floor, the whole encounter over in seconds.

"Now what on earth are we supposed to do with him?" asked Gann mockingly, looking down at the unconscious mage.

Marin raised an eyebrow at him, pulling her cloak's hood forward again to cover her features. "Meaning?"

"Meaning he's going to wake up at some point," replied Gann. He clucked his tongue infuriatingly at her. "It's unprofessional, you know, leaving evidence behind you like that."

"I never said I was trying to be professional," replied Marin, searching through the mage's pockets but coming away with nothing of use to them. "Bind him and stick him in a cupboard somewhere. I'm not here to cause a bloodbath."

"But if you find one of them standing between you and Casavir...?"

"Different situation," replied Marin abruptly. Now that they were inside the Host Tower she was almost out of her skin with impatience to find Casavir, and Gann's light-hearted commentary was grating her nerves. She gave him a meaningful look, jerking her head towards the unconscious mage. "If you'd be so kind?"

Ten minutes and several stairwells later they reached what looked to be the dungeons, having left the unfortunate mage bound and gagged and stashed in shadows behind a statue. Three narrow corridors stretched off into the gloom – north, east and west – unlit but for a single guttering torch at the intersection where they stood.

Marin was moving to douse the torch when she suddenly shivered so violently even her tail shuddered. Gann moved to steady her but she waved him away, a curious expression on her face. She took two steps towards the northern passage, a step towards the western passage, and then moved back to where she had originally been standing. As she crossed the mouth of the eastern passage she shivered, then smiled, her tail shuddering again. "He's down this way, I can feel him."

"Are you saying you can sense him somehow?" asked Gann, doubtful as he followed her in sneaking down the corridor.

"No, I can feel his presence, literally," replied Marin, struggling to keep her voice to a whisper. "Paladins are blessed by their deities and carry with them an aura of... an aura of goodness, I guess. It doesn't mix well with fiendish blood – both sides can _feel_ the presence of the other."

"That must make things, ah..." Gann paused delicately, "...interesting."

The look Marin gave him was unimpressed. "Neeshka's skin starts crawling when she gets too close to him, probably why she's never managed to pick his pockets successfully. My own heritage must be more removed than hers; at most, Casavir's aura just made my skin tingle."

Gann opened his mouth to reply and Marin flushed, moving swiftly to cut him off, "Just, don't. I know what you were going to say, and I don't need distractions right now. Come on, he can't be far."

"As you wish, dear lady," replied Gann, a mischievous smile on his face as he followed her down the eastern passage. "It was too easy anyway."

* * *

Gann held up his hand warningly and the two melted into shadowy alcoves on either side of the passageway. Ahead a dim light grew gradually stronger, bobbing along as someone approached. Voices drifted towards them.

"...I don't envy him, mate; he's in for a bad start to the day tomorrow..."

The other guard said something they couldn't catch, and the first gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Where've you been hiding out? Got moss for brains? You've any idea who he _is_?"

The other muttered something, and the first continued. "That piece of scum you're guarding is Casavir, one of the Knight-Captain of Neverwinter's lackeys. You know _her, _the one what put paid to Black Garius's plans? That keeps making the mages look like imbeciles, not that you heard that from me."

"You mean he's the one the orcs called _Katalmach_?" said the second, awed. "I heard about that, what he did in Old Owl's Well. I thought he'd be taller."

"You're missing the point, dolt. He's rumoured to have hooked up with that wench, got nice and cuddly-like with her, you know? And if the mages can't get to _her_, they'll get _at_ her through others. Like her lover. Pulled him out of the rubble of that keep before the Neverwinter forces could get to him, the mages did. I can't wait to see what they're going to do to _him _tomorrow."

"But what I don't get is why now? He's been here, what, two years? Why not do anything sooner?"

"You really are an idiot, aren't you? The mages never do nothing without cause. The Knight-Captain went missing right after that King of Shadows guy fell; Master Thelonius was searching for her in the rubble when they came across him. She only came back, what, a year or so ago now? And the mages had to wait until they had an ambassador back in Neverwinter, right, to send her the bits and pieces. Else why bother?"

"I guess... d'you reckon they'll flay him? I saw a flayed man once."

From across the passageway Gann could see Marin's eyes gleaming red with rising anger. He tried to catch her attention, to tell her to let them pass unmolested as long as they remained undetected...

"Naw, I've seen the mages do far worse things to a man, and use magic to keep him alive while they're at it. I wonder if they'll—"

The jailer never had the opportunity to finish saying what torture he thought the mages would inflict on their prisoner. As they drew level with where Marin was hidden she exploded into action, her dagger leaping into her hand almost of its own accord and plunging into the jailer's unprotected throat. With a startled gurgle he collapsed and she bounded over his falling corpse, hitting the second in the chest and bowling him over. They went down in a flurry of tangled limbs, Marin flipping as she fell and wrapping her legs about his neck.

"Mercy, mercy!" cried the man, cringing away from her wrath.

"What mercy would you have shown _him_?" snarled Marin, grabbing the man's flailing hands and keeping them away from her face. She tightened the hold inexorably, choking him, his desperate flailing growing weaker by the second, then ceasing altogether. Even then she didn't release her stranglehold.

"Marin, that's enough!" said Gann sharply. He grabbed her arm, pulling her forcibly away from the man, then knelt and felt along his neck. A pulse still fluttered, growing stronger now that the pressure crushing down on his windpipe was removed. He straightened, swearing under his breath. "That was unnecessary, Marin. You'd have killed him, and for what? You heard him, talking to that other one... did he really deserve death?"

Marin knelt hunched over where she had fallen after Gann had pushed her away, breathing heavily as she tried to regain control of herself. "I... I just..."

Gann swore again, gingerly approaching her. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Marin looked up at him, her eyes still gleaming, her anger barely held in check. "This ends here, tonight."


	12. Trial of Injustice

**Trial of Injustice**

* * *

Gann paused beside a heavy iron-studded door, summoning a small globe spirit to give enough light to make the inscription beside the door readable. "According to the prisoner manifest that last guard had, Casavir's cell should be directly ahead, through here."

Marin tilted her head to one side to listen for any sounds of guards on the other side of the door, but it was difficult to hear anything above the pounding of her heart thumping painfully in her throat. Trusting to luck she nodded to Gann, who gently lifted the protesting latch and pushed the heavy door open.

The room was empty... as was the iron-barred cell that stood beyond. Marin's shoulders slumped as she took in the scene, wordless dread creeping over her. Gann entered behind her, looking around in surprise. "That's weird; they wouldn't have carried out the..." he caught himself at Marin's stricken look and quickly amended what he'd been about to say, "I mean, I don't think they wouldn't have done anything yet. You heard the guards back there; they were talking about tomorrow being an unpleasant day for him."

Marin took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm. "He has to be here, somewhere nearby. Damn it, I can _feel_ he's so close I can hardly think straight..."

Gann caught her arm, steadying her. "Then trust to your feelings, and let's find him."

* * *

"Brothers and Sisters of the Arcane, we will now resume after the court's recess." The ancient arcanist presiding over the trial peered over the rims of his thick spectacles, continuing only once all in attendance had settled down. "As you know, we are here today to rule on a case of murder most foul. The Brotherhood has made its case. You have heard tearful testimony from the sole-surviving eye-witness. And through all of this, you have seen for yourself how the perpetrator of this most heinous of crimes has remained unrepentant."

The attention of the gathering swivelled to the lone figure of the paladin, who sat silently as he had throughout the trial, gazing into the distance, back straight, jaw set, his stony-faced expression unreadable. The arcanist glowered, making a final attempt to provoke a reaction from him. "Undeniable evidence has been presented against you, and yet you have refused to enter your plea. Will you not do so now? I entreat you, take but a moment to reflect upon your deeds... purify your soul by admitting your guilt so that you may face your deserved punishment and meet your god with a clear conscience."

Casavir ignored the arcanist, a muscle twitching in his jaw the only outward sign visible. In this parody of a trial he would not give them the satisfaction of saying anything. If he was to face death at the hands of the Host Tower for his actions, he would face it stoically. His cause was just; if he held steady to that then nothing they could do could take anything away from him... his love for her, her love returned... _What the gods bring together let no man rip asunder..._

"If that is your answer, then so be it," said the arcanist. He turned to face the assembled court, fervently declaiming, "In the face of overwhelming evidence against the accused, and with such a display of dispassionate disregard for life from the accused, there can only be one verdict. In the matter of the Brotherhood versus Casavir, minion of that accursed witch of Crossroad Keep, I call upon the jury to hand down their judgements."

The spokesman of the jury rose to his feet to deliver the guilty verdict with a venomous tongue, but Casavir ignored him as he had ignored all the proceedings. There was no point in listening to lies.

A curious tingling swept his skin then, challenging his resolve to remain detached. The sensation was not unlike what he used to experience when Marin was near; her fiendish ancestry reacting to his holy aura, amplified by the heady intoxication her presence evoked in him. It had been growing steadily stronger ever since that strange dream three nights back, at times manifesting so powerfully during the proceedings of the trial he'd half-expected the door to open and for her to appear. That dream... had it only been a dream? Was she really alive, and did she know he was too? It had seemed so real; he'd felt her life-pulse fading as he'd held her broken body only for her to step from the shadows, swearing she'd find him... or was he finally losing his mind to the tolls of imprisonment?

But it wasn't just that dream; his captors had left him well alone for almost two years, until now. Yesterday one of the jailers had informed him of the charges levelled against him and today he faced this farce of a trial before all of the Host Tower's finest, most of whom had not known of his survival or incarceration, until now. Something had happened...

The arcanist was smiling smugly at the unanimously guilty verdict delivered, as was the whole of the courtroom. "The convicted will rise for his sentencing."

Rough hands grabbed Casavir and hauled him to his feet. Shaking off the guards with a single shrug of his shoulders he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. The faint touch of a fresh breeze brushed against his face, taking him back to the peaceful moments they'd enjoyed together as they'd walked the fields after the siege. His resolve strengthened, he slowly straightened, and calmly opened his eyes.

And shivered at the sight of a hooded figure slipping in through the dungeon door, leaving it slightly ajar.

No one took notice of the newcomer but him; his skin tingling as he watched her descend the few steps to the chamber's floor. Could it be...?

A jolt of electricity coursed through his body as their eyes met, his pulse quickening at the familiar features and twinkling eyes. She gave him a broad grin and a mischievous wink, and then with a roguish flick of her tail she vanished into the crowd.

"Wait!" cried Casavir, leaping forward and knocking the guards aside. They recovered quickly but the arcanist intervened, waving them back as a satisfied smirk crossed his face.

"Ah... the accused would finally speak... who are we to deny the confessions of a condemned man?"

Casavir thought quickly, his heart pounding painfully in his throat. Her sudden appearance could only mean trouble was not far behind. He had to give her as much time as possible, else both their lives were likely forfeit. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "As a servant of the god of justice, I can hardly defend myself against false accusations."

A tide of jeering broke forth at his words, and it took the arcanist several attempts to restore order. When he had done so he scowled grimly at the paladin. "The point of your _confession_, sir knight, is to concede your guilt and submit yourself to the mercies of this court."

"I do no such thing," declared Casavir defiantly. "You have kept me chained in the dark for your own nefarious reasons these past two years, but it is you who are condemned to dwell in darkness for all eternity if you do not turn from this path. To live without love is to die slowly inside, and I see before me a congregation more soulless than the King of Shadows and all his minions."

"Enough!" spluttered the arcanist, but Casavir's rising passion swept his protests aside.

"You have asked how the blood of Sydney Natale came to be spilled, and I tell you her blood stains your hands. Through the machinations of the Host Tower and your endless pursuit of power you sought to lure my beloved into a foul ambush, seeking the death of a shining beacon of goodness before any other desires. Had my lady fallen there to Luskan's tainted ambitions, I ask you who would've stood against the King of Shadows and saved all the lands, including Luskan? I swear in Tyr's name, justice will come to all who..."

Shrieks of surprise and outrage exploded from the gathered mages as a globe of darkness fell on the chamber, engulfing all in blinding blackness. A light hand rested on his shoulder in a familiar fashion, thrilling him, and her voice suddenly spoke softly in his ear. "It's a lovely little speech, my love, but I really think we should be going."

Above the pandemonium rose the arcanist's voice. "What nonsense is this!? Devilish sorcery will not avail you!" With a flick of his wrist the darkness gradually receded, revealing the courtroom chamber as it had been, barring one point of detail.

"Find them and stop them!" roared the arcanist, pointing to the empty docks where Casavir had stood. "Use lethal force if you have to, but they must not escape!"


	13. Reckless

**Reckless**

* * *

Darkness thicker than night swirled around him as the teleportation spell ended and he slammed into the ground, the only sound audible his own harsh breathing. Sight and senses denied he stretched out his hand, his heart pounding, and felt a delicious shiver run through his body at her rewarding touch.

"My lady, you... you _are_ alive," he managed as she drew his hand to her face, slick with tears. "I thought..."

"Oh, Casavir," breathed Marin, tenderly cupping his grizzled cheeks in her hands before kissing him passionately. Her lips were as soft as he remembered, salty now from her tears of joy, and for a moment the seriousness of their situation slipped away as he lost himself in her arms.

"There's so much to tell you, but not now; we've got to get you out of here," said Marin, eventually breaking the embrace. She grinned then, her playful spirit resurfacing at the sight of him before her. "I didn't want to interrupt you back there as you seemed to be getting into full voice, but I thought we might have overstayed our welcome."

"I feared I had lost my reason when I saw you slipping through the door. I realised if you weren't a figment of my imagination you'd need more time to set your plans in motion, so I just said the first things that came into my mind. I don't know what got into me."

"These dungeons will start doing strange things to a man's head if you stay in them too long." She grinned again, her heart surging with adrenaline as she took his hand and led the way swiftly down the passage.

* * *

"You found him then?" said Gann, noting the dishevelled figure stumbling behind Marin, one hand resting on her shoulder.

"Who's..." began Casavir, but Marin interrupted him, giving a brief introduction, "Casavir, meet Gann; Gann, Casavir. We don't have time for more pleasantries; any moment now the whole of the Host Tower will be howling at our heels."

Gann nodded, indicating the way back up another passage. "This way."

"Where's the lantern?" asked Marin, shifting to the side and moving Casavir's hand from her shoulder to Gann's before falling in behind him, bringing up the rear. "We can move faster if Casavir has some light to see by."

"It got broken in a tussle I had with two guardsmen," replied Gann over his shoulder. "Someone must have found your earlier handiwork and raised the alarm. We'll have to dodge search parties closing in from both sides."

"Let's get going then," was all Marin said, tersely. She gritted her teeth but mercifully for once Gann held his tongue, and Casavir remained silent, seemingly bemused by the rapid turn of events. She didn't want to have to explain to him the incident with the prison guards, not while they were still in danger.

Gann was turning down a side-passage when a sudden shout from behind signalled their discovery. Marin half-turned to see a group of mages uncovering a lantern but at the sound of rushing air hurtling towards them she instinctively dropped into a warding position, raising her hand. The hostile spell's impact nearly shattered her hastily summoned shield, the force of the collision deflecting upwards into the crumbling masonry above their heads and raining them with shards of debris.

"Run!" cried Marin, pushing Casavir down the side-passage as she solidified her hold on the shielding spell and prepared a counter-cast.

"It's Marin A'Shaller herself!" someone shouted. "Eternal glory to whoever brings her down!"

Several spells gleamed at once and she braced herself for the onslaught. Multi-hued shafts of light flared as the attacks dissipated against her glowing shield, the force of the impacts pushing her back and beyond the side-passage. Seeing a tell-tale red glow approaching, she desperately threw her shield forward to meet it, then dropped to the floor and curled up into a small ball, protecting her head beneath her arms.

The sound of the fireball exploding against the shield was deafening in the enclosed corridor. A surge of heat raced over them as the shockwave rippled outwards, cracking stone and shaking the very foundations beneath their feet. With an ominous groan, the walls caved ponderously inwards, choking the passage with falling rocks and dust.

Marin was on her feet as soon as the initial shockwaves had passed, blinking away blood that was seeping from a cut in her forehead. Her heart sank as her dark vision adjusted to the absolute blackness once more. The explosion had collapsed the entire passageway, blocking her off from the others completely.

"Casavir!" screamed Marin, covering her nose and mouth with the edge of her cloak to keep out the choking dust. "Gann, are you alright?"

"We're fine," came Gann's voice from behind the rock-fall. "Casavir's fine, just winded from some of the falling debris. What about you?"

"I'm still on my feet," replied Marin grimly. "Go on, get out of here. I'll keep them busy for as long as I can."

"That's ridiculous, Marin," shouted Casavir, catching his breath. "The mages' spells have sealed them off from us; we'll clear some of this debris and then we can all get out of here."

Marin shook her head, bracing herself, "At least one of us has to get out of here alive, Casavir, and with their attention on me you've a better chance of breaking free." Her voice almost broke then, and she swallowed hard. "You don't understand; you _have_ to get back to Crossroad Keep... and take good care of her..."

"I'm not leaving you here," declared Casavir. "We'll..."

"For the love of all that's holy, Casavir, shut up and stop being so damned stubborn!" shouted Marin. She swore again. "Gann, just get him out of here and back to Crossroad Keep! I'll find another way!"

A moment of silence followed her words, then Gann spoke, quietly, "May the spirits guide your path, Marin."

From beyond the rock fall she heard Casavir's voice, raised in protest, "What? No, I'm not leaving her! I'm not..." Scuffling followed as he struggled with Gann, but after two years in captivity he was no match for the hagspawn's superior strength, and the noises faded as Gann physically dragged him away.

An anguished sob escaping her, Marin turned and fled down the passage the only way she could, hot tears burning in her eyes.

* * *

Marin burst into the star-lit courtyard, gasping for breath, clutching at her bleeding side. A burst of heat seared her back and she instinctively dived forward, rolling beneath the path of a fireball cast by her pursuers. She muttered a spell as she came to her feet, surrounding herself with several mirror images regaining their feet, turning as one and casting a multitude of fireballs towards their pursuers. Leaving them scattering for cover from illusionary and real fireballs alike, she darted into a recessed stairwell and clattered up the spiral stairs, her breath coming in short, painful gasps.

At the top of the stairs she gained a momentary respite with no one in sight, a fresh breeze tinged with the sea's salty tang caressing her. She leaned against the battlements, legs trembling, trying to centre herself against the encroaching darkness threatened by blood loss and exhaustion combined. She couldn't go on for much longer; she just wanted to curl up in a little corner where no one would find her, but the thought of Marisca standing forlorn in the great hall of Crossroad Keep, waiting alone for them when they may never make it back, spurred her on.

As she pushed herself away from the battlement shouts echoed from across the way; Host Tower guardsmen were pouring out onto the battlements from another stairwell. Her renewed movement came not a moment too soon, with a whistling arrow clipping her pack before shattering against the stone where she'd been standing instants before. A small item slipped through the tear in her pack, knocking her elbow, and she intuitively grabbed for it, finding in her hand the exquisitely crafted ritual flask Casavir had given her long ago, the night before her trial by combat. As she gazed at the flask, surprised by its incongruous appearance, it became infused with a soft glow, and a reassuring warmth spread through her battered body.

Shouts and heavy boot-falls echoing up the stairwell brought her rudely back to the present. Going back obviously wasn't an option, and the guardsmen from the other tower were running along two walkways to cut off her escape. Glancing about, Marin spied a third avenue of escape, although it would be touch and go if she could make it. She grasped the flask securely in her hand and took a running leap, springing up onto the battlements, thinking to evade her pursuers by leaping across to the adjacent wall.

It was just too far a jump. She teetered on the brink of the abyss for a few heart-stopping moments, the churning waves crashing onto jagged rocks jutting out of the sea far below, then regained her balance and turned. The Host Tower guardsmen had fanned out around her, cutting off any escape. Breathing heavily, her heart pounding painfully in her throat, she finally raised her hands in surrender.

"And so the great Marin A'Shaller is finally ours!" gloated a Host Tower arch-mage, stepping out from behind the guardsmen. His eyes glittered maliciously as he gestured to the guardsmen, who set their pikes against her and slowly started advancing. "Who would've thought you'd deliver yourself so nicely into our hands, just when we needed a new little plaything. You may as well give yourself up peacefully, you know. You've nowhere left to run!"

Marin took a deep breath, drawing together the ebbing flows of her power to bring into being one final spell. She could only hope she'd bought Gann enough time to get Casavir clear of the tower. The guardsmen faltered as a glowing red sphere coalesced before them, flames writhing across its surface. "How wrong you are," she replied, stepping backwards off the battlements and letting gravity take her as the delayed-blast fireball exploded.


End file.
